


A Whole Different Kind of Light

by PorcupineGirl



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode s02e07: Parse I, First Kiss, Getting Together, Homophobic Language, Kent Parson is an unsavory fellow, M/M, Past Kent Parson/Jack Zimmermann
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-11 23:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13535226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: Kent shows up to Epikegster a half an hour later than in canon, and it makes all the difference."Lord," Bittle says, giggling and leaning into Jack's side, leaning right in like he's perfectly happy to have Jack's arm around his waist. "You playing beer pong. That'll be the day. If that ever happened, you better believe I'd be gettin' that whole thing on video." He stops giggling abruptly and glances up at Jack. "I mean, I wouldn't put that online. Obviously. Just for, y'know, all of us."Jack nods. He wants to say something, but he's not sure what. It's on the tip of his tongue. Jack wants…





	A Whole Different Kind of Light

**Author's Note:**

> IDK how happy I am with this, but the more I read it the less happy I am with it and I need to move on, so... *tosses fic onto AO3* (╯°□°）╯
> 
> I am just... so convinced that if Kent hadn't shown up, something would have happened at Epikegster. Jack was looking at Bitty like he was so smitten. The combo of a little bit of alcohol and the dark cover of a crowded party... Bitty flirting more obviously than usual...
> 
> This fic starts during the events of Parse I, so in the first few paragraphs there are lines of dialogue taken from that comic, and a few of Kent's lines are taken from Parse III. Those, of course, belong to Ngozi, along with the universe and its characters.
> 
> Thanks to RedScudery for always being the most helpful getting the colloquial French down. Instead of providing an English translation at the end, I will just tell you: when Jack speaks French, he is literally just repeating what Bitty said, mocking him.
> 
> Title is from "Better Than You" by Kate Alexa

For once, Jack is legitimately glad he came downstairs for a party.

He's pretty sure Bittle is doing it on purpose—there's no way he just _happens_ to have spent the past hour by Jack's side. He probably took pity on his poor, socially awkward friend and decided to make it his personal mission to make sure Jack has fun tonight.

And maybe Jack should be upset by that? Maybe he should think it's patronizing or insulting?

But he really doesn't see the point, not when Bittle's the reason he feels this good right now. If Bittle is doing it on purpose, all it means is that he's a good friend who knows how to make Jack happy. That's the opposite of upsetting.

"I'm surprised you're not chirping me for having my nose buried in my phone."

And it occurs to Jack that maybe he knows how to make Bittle happy, too.

"Well… If it's out… we should take a… 'selfie,' or something, together." He makes sure to put just the right emphasis on _selfie_ to imply that maybe he doesn't actually know what one is. He's pretty sure that Bittle knows he's not quite that technologically inept, but he also knows that pretending to be makes Bittle's eyes light up in amusement.

" _There it is_."

"I'm serious!" He is. He's also maybe chirping Bittle a little, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to get a picture together. "You know. Like. 'Bitty's first big kegster.' You could put it on your blog." When Bittle doesn't look convinced, he continues. "I mean, _I_ don't get selfies, but they seem harmless enough, so…"

Bittle rolls his eyes, but he's grinning. "Well I guess I better not pass up my chance to take an actual selfie with Jack Zimmermann, since I know this won't be happenin' again anytime soon."

Bittle holds his camera up in front of them, trying to get them both in the frame. Jack puts his arm around Bittle's back, his hand on Bittle's far shoulder, and leans down so their heads are together. Bittle's cheek is nearly touching his, close enough that Jack can feel its warmth, and suddenly he wants to turn his head so his breath runs hot behind Bittle's ear.

He pushes that thought back, ignores it like he's ignored other stray thoughts he's been having recently. Thoughts that started the moment he stepped out of the Haus and saw Bittle standing there in a new haircut and short shorts. Hooking up with a teammate isn't worth it, Jack knows that intimately, so he keeps those thoughts in check. This one is barely there before it's gone again, before Jack can hesitate or look conflicted for even a second.

Then they're smiling, then laughing when a passerby bumps the camera and Bittle gets a picture of their throats, then smiling again, and finally Jack is sticking his tongue out for the last picture, making Bittle squawk.

"Just you wait, that's the one I'll put on Twitter," Bittle says as he lowers his phone.

"Go ahead," Jack says with a shrug. "No one will believe you."

"What does _that_ mean?" Bittle is looking up at Jack with one eyebrow cocked, and Jack's hand is still on Bittle's shoulder.

"Well obviously a hockey robot can't do that," Jack says, putting on a serious tone, "so everyone will think you photoshopped it."

Bittle laughs, bright and tinkling like windchimes on a screened-in porch in the Georgia sun. He shoves at Jack's chest, but lightly enough that Jack doesn't budge.

"Hockey robot, my ass. I'm gonna show the world this photographic evidence that Jack Zimmermann is a completely ridiculous man."

Jack shakes his head, smiling, and watches as Bittle turns his attention to the phone, Jack assumes to actually post the photo to Twitter. He knows all he has to do is say the word and Bittle would stop immediately, that he wouldn't want to actually embarrass Jack or bring him unwanted attention. But making Bittle happy is making Jack a lot happier than whatever people might say about the photo will annoy him.

He turns that thought over in his head. Jack wants all his friends to be happy, of course, but at some point making Bittle smile or laugh became a daily goal.

Maybe he just wants to make up for how he treated him last year.

They're slumped against the wall again, but Jack's arm is still around Bittle so he's actually leaning more on Jack's arm than the wall. He doesn't seem to mind—or maybe he's too focused on his phone to notice. He's also a bit tipsy. Not drunk, though. He's been nursing the same cup of tub juice since he came over to talk to Jack over an hour ago. Or, was nursing it—he seems to have abandoned it entirely at some point.

Bittle straightens a bit as he turns to show Jack his phone.

"How's that?" he asks with a blindingly bright smile. His eyes are dancing with mischief. Jack looks at the phone suspiciously.

Bittle did, in fact, use the photo where Jack is sticking out his tongue. He captioned it, "Apparently when you force a hockey robot to have a little fun it can lead to all sorts of strange malfunctions!"

It's clever, and unexpected, and Jack can't hold back a snort.

"Haha. So I'm malfunctioning, eh? Sounds dangerous. I might start dancing or playing beer pong next."

He shoves at the phone with the cup in his free hand. His other hand is…

When Bittle straightened up, it had pulled him away from the wall. Jack realizes now that instead of letting his arm fall away when Bittle moved, he'd just slid it down. Around Bittle's waist instead of his shoulders.

Which is good, actually. It's less obvious, won't draw attention to them, and suddenly Jack wants very much for this to be more private. Just the two of them.

Which is odd, because they're just chirping each other. He's not thinking about sex, however hot Bittle is. But Jack wants…

"Lord," Bittle says, giggling and leaning into Jack's side, leaning right in like he's perfectly happy to have Jack's arm around his waist. "You playing beer pong. That'll be the day. If that ever happened, you better believe I'd be gettin' that whole thing on video." He stops giggling abruptly and glances up at Jack. "I mean, I wouldn't put _that_ online. Obviously. Just for, y'know, all of us."

Jack nods. He wants to say something, but he's not sure what. It's on the tip of his tongue. Jack wants…

He wants to bury his nose in Bittle's hair and smell his shampoo. Not as a prelude to anything. Just… to hold him.

It hits him, like a hard check right to his solar plexus from a player that he didn't see coming, what it is he wants.

Bittle looks up at him, swaying even closer, deep brown eyes open wide with concern.

"Jack, are you okay? I was just joking, y'know, I wouldn't take a video if you didn't want me to. Even if you did play beer pong, which I doubt you're gonna do, and not 'cause you're a hockey robot, I know you're not at all—"

"I know, Bits," Jack says, and he has to wonder if the smile spreading across his face gives everything away. "I trust you, don't worry."

"Okay," Bitty says softly. They're so close now. Bitty seems to realize that, but he doesn't pull away. He just turns back out, facing the party but still tucked into Jack's side, and starts chattering away about where on earth Dex and Nursey might have gotten off to after the fight he saw them having earlier.

Jack lets him, because he needs a minute.

He thinks he can have this.

He can't have, doesn't _want_ , a world where he and Bittle spend one night together and then get all awkward around each other afterward. Or maybe worse, a world where they hook up regularly but go back to their own rooms to sleep, where they only touch when the sexual tension gets too high to resist, where he has to second-guess every one of his instincts telling him to make Bittle happy because it might be misinterpreted, where they stop when one of them starts dating someone.

But… a world where they take their friendship and mold it into something new. Something that maybe could last, even beyond Samwell. Where they can hold each other whenever they want, so long as they're not in public. Where he doesn't have to be confused by the knot in his stomach when he hears about Bitty going on a date with another guy, because Bitty won't _go_ on dates with any other guys. Where they both keep doing whatever they can to make each other happy.

Jack wants that. And he thinks maybe he can have it.

Bitty's chattering has tapered off, and he's looking down at his phone, not typing, just fiddling with the edge of the case. He's still leaning into Jack's half-embrace. Biting his lips together like maybe he's worried this is the only chance he'll get to have that and he'd better enjoy it.

Jack slides his hand down so it's more on Bitty's hip than his waist. As he leans in, he lets his thumb slide under Bitty's shirt, stroking the bare skin there. Bitty gasps, a tiny sound that would be drowned out by the party around them if Jack weren't leaning in close enough for his lips to brush Bitty's ear.

"I think I'm done with this party," he says, his voice low and only for Bitty to hear. "I'm going to go upstairs. Come with me?"

Bitty turns his head just a little to look up at Jack, because if he turned his head much farther they'd be kissing. He stares up with wide eyes, and Jack pulls back just far enough to stare back, hoping Bitty will be able to see how sincere the invitation is.

Bitty opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. His eyes travel down Jack's face and back up again, darting around to take in every detail. His mouth is still open just a bit as he gives Jack a quick little nod.

Jack's smile is probably more relieved than it should be, and he finally pulls his arm back to turn and make for the stairs.

But before he can go, Bitty plucks the cup out of his hand. "I'll just—throw this away for you," he says quickly, "and then. Y'know." He kind of shrugs and gives Jack this little smile that Jack's not sure he's ever seen before, but wants to see again many times.

Jack nods and heads toward the stairs. He's in no rush as he goes up, and he's just reached the top when he hears steps behind him. He steps onto the second floor and looks back down to see Bitty not-quite-running up the stairs to get to him. He moves to one side, just enough that the partygoers downstairs can't see him.

Then Bitty is there on the second-floor landing, standing toe-to-toe with him. They stare at each other for a moment.

"Hi," Bitty says quietly.

"Hi," Jack replies, and when he smiles, Bitty does too.

Jack's every instinct says to wrap Bitty up in his arms and never let go, but this isn't quite the place for it.

Instead, he touches Bitty's elbow, then slides his hand down until he can intertwine their fingers and hold on tight.

It's not much. It's not sex, or even a kiss. It's almost nothing, except for the fact that it changes everything. Jack feels the enormity of what he's doing settle over him like a weight—not a burden he's carrying, but the comforting weight of a heavy quilt in the middle of winter.

They stand there for another moment. Jack wants to be sure that Bitty is okay with what he's just done, with this change that's going to touch nearly every part of their lives.

Bitty is biting his lip just a little, but he's got a determined look that Jack has seen many times before as he squeezes Jack's hand.

Jack steps away, tugging Bitty gently toward his room. They giggle as they manage to climb over the caution tape with their hands still tightly clasped. Bitty's still giggling as they make their way down the hall—at first he's a step behind Jack, but then he rushes a little and catches up just in time to lean against Jack's arm for the last few steps before they reach Jack's door.

Jack reaches for the knob before he's even stopped walking, wanting to get inside as quickly as possible, but—

"God damn it." Of _course_ he locked it; caution tape never stops a partier looking for somewhere to throw up or make out.

He digs around in his jeans pocket with his free hand while Bitty cracks up against his arm. Jack gets distracted for a second, the way Bitty's head is shaking with laughter pulling his attention to all that soft, blonde hair. He finally gives in and nuzzles the top of Bitty's head, and just like that, he knows he's made the right choice. He knows he'll do almost anything to keep this. That should be a terrifying thought, but when Bitty stills and then lifts his head, his smile as radiant as Jack's own, fear is the last thing Jack feels.

Just as Jack starts to think that maybe he'll just kiss Bitty right here, Bitty breaks their eye contact, reaching across to poke at Jack's hand that's now holding his keys uselessly between his pocket and the doorknob.

"Get the… the thing done." Bitty motions from the keys to the knob as he breaks out in a new fit of giggles. "The… put the keys in thing."

"Le 'Mets les clés' chose-binouche" Jack mutters, purely to confound Bitty, who obligingly starts to complain about his speaking French. He shoves the key in the lock, but only to get it out of his hands. Instead of turning the knob, he backs Bitty up against the wall next to his door.

Bitty isn't talking or giggling now. He's just blinking startled eyes up at Jack as his hand that's not still clasped in Jack's comes up and grabs onto Jack's shirt for dear life.

Bitty's eyes fall closed when Jack touches his face, and finally, finally Jack leans down and kisses him.

They kiss again and again, small, sweet kisses slowly giving way to deeper exploratory ones. Jack could spend years just doing this, just learning the inside of Bitty's mouth and the feel of his cheek and the hairs at the back of his neck. He finally pulls his hand away from Bitty's, only so that he can wrap it around his waist and pull him closer.

A loud _thud_ from downstairs, near the staircase, startles them just enough for Bitty to push him back.

"We should, um—" Bitty nods toward the door.

"Inside, yeah," Jack says, and guides Bitty into his room with a hand at the small of his back.

Jack double-checks that his door is locked, then goes to lock the bathroom door as well. When he turns around, he finds Bitty leaning against the main door, fiddling with the zipper of his hoodie. Jack goes over to him, but before he can decide where to put his hands first, Bitty quirks his head to one side.

"I'm not just… way more drunk than I thought I was, am I?"

"What?" Jack blinks. "I hope not."

"I mean, I think I'm just a little tipsy, but maybe I'm actually so wasted I don't even realize it anymore and you're just taking me up here to put me to bed and I'm totally misinterpreting everything and imagining things—"

"Bittle," Jack cuts in, "exactly how drunk would you have to be to hallucinate us making out in the hallway?"

Bitty blushes. "Okay, so that happened. But I just… _why_ did that happen, Jack?"

Jack's stomach drops as Bitty looks up at him plaintively. "Shit. I—I'm so sorry, I didn't—I mean, if you didn't want to—we definitely don't have to—"

"What?" Bitty straightens from where he was leaning on the door and grabs Jack's biceps. "Are you kidding me? Of course _I_ want to, Jack, I just—why on earth would _you_ want to?"

Jack's eyes widen. "Because you're really hot?"

Bitty looks even more bewildered at that, his mouth dropping open. "No, I'm—I mean, I don't—I—okay, you're not straight."

Jack shakes his head, a little sheepish.

"But you didn't tell me—does anyone else know? Shitty?"

Jack shakes his head again as his cheeks heat up. "I didn't—when I came here, I thought it didn't matter. I didn't think it was something I'd ever act on again."

Bitty peers at Jack dubiously, his head ducked down a bit. "But suddenly _I'm_ hot enough for you to…"

"No, no," Jack says, finally lifting his hands back to Bitty's waist. His arm muscles shift under Bitty's fingers. "You're always hot, that's not new. But it's not—I don't want something just physical. With you. I did kind of suddenly realize that that's true, but… I don't think it's actually new, either."

Bitty steps closer, a small smile creeping back onto his face, and relief courses through Jack's veins.

"So... what _do_ you want?" Bitty's eyes are shy but hopeful.

Jack takes a slow breath, sorting through all the things he wants to find the one that's the right answer to that question.

"I want to be with you," he finally says, not at all sure that it feels like enough.

Bitty's small smile grows. He's still hiding, though, just a little. "You mean, like, dating? You and me?"

"Yeah." There's nothing small about Jack's smile. "I want—will you—be my boyfriend? That's what I want."

"Lord, Jack, yes, of course," Bitty says, pressing in even closer and winding his arms around Jack's neck. "I want that more'n just about anything."

To be honest, Jack had expected Bitty to need some time to process everything before making a commitment like this. He'd been confident that Bitty would want to make out, had thought maybe they'd do more, had hoped they'd talk about a relationship in the morning, had worried that Bitty might want to wait until after winter break to figure things out.

He hadn't really let himself hope for this, that he'd get everything he wants in just a few minutes. That Bitty would be as all-in as he is.

He kisses Bitty again.

In the hallway, Jack had been leading and Bitty following—following eagerly, yes, but still a bit hesitant and unsure of himself.

Now, though, Bitty's kisses are confident. He's not waiting for Jack to make each move. He's pulling Jack close, digging his fingers into Jack's skin so his nails just barely scratch him in a way that sends a jolt down his spine. Jack is being claimed, and he loves it. It's Bitty who starts moving toward Jack's bed, pulling at Jack's shirt when Jack isn't quite quick enough to follow.

When they get there, Jack is ready to just ease Bitty down and climb over him, but Bitty pulls back from the kiss and sits down at the edge of the bed. Jack pauses, confused, until Bitty reaches down and starts untying his shoes.

Jack sits down next to him and does the same, laughing.

"Don't laugh, Mr. Zimmermann. I do not even want to know what might be on the soles of our shoes two hours into that kegster. I don't _think_ I've stepped in any vomit, but I'm not gonna bet your sheets on it."

Jack abandons his shoes, one off and one on, to lean in and kiss the side of Bitty's throat, making Bitty gasp.

"So you're planning on getting your feet in between my sheets, eh?" He murmurs as he nips at Bitty's skin.

"Not with our potentially-diseased shoes on, I'm not!" Bitty is clearly trying to sound stern, but it comes out more breathless than anything. Jack chuckles and pulls back to start in on his other shoe.

"So no one knows," Bitty muses as he pulls his second shoe off. "I'm guessing you don't want that changin' anytime soon?"

Jack pauses his untying and looks at Bitty. He can have this, but he can't have everything. He hates it. Bitty is taking it well, seems very matter-of-fact about the situation, so he forces himself to be rational.

"I don't want to hide you," he blurts instead. "I want to tell the whole world."

Bitty's eyes widen. A tiny smile flits over his lips before he forces it down.

"But you can't," he says slowly.

Jack takes a breath.

"I can't. Not the whole world. Not right now."

Bitty nods and looks down at his hands. He twists his fingers together, and Jack wishes he wouldn't look down because he thinks it might be to keep Jack from seeing that he's upset. "It's not like I could, either. Seein' as how the whole world would include my parents. We can be careful here, we probably shouldn't—um, we shouldn't sleep in each other's rooms, or—"

Jack reaches out and stills Bitty's worried fingers. "Bits. I want a real relationship with you. It can't be everything that it should be, but we should at least be able to be together in our own home."

Bitty looks up hesitantly. "But—it would be so easy for one of the boys to notice…"

"Yeah," Jack says slowly. "I… think we're going to have to tell Shitty at some point. Pretty soon. Maybe Rans and Holster, too. Not the whole team, but we can see how things go, yeah?"

Bitty bites his lip, but nods. Then he closes what little distance remained between them on the bed. "I guess we can talk about the details later, huh?"

"Anytime you want," Jack says, but they're already kissing again almost before he finishes his sentence.

Jack starts to lie back, pulling Bitty along with him, but Bitty stops him with a smack to his thigh.

"Your other shoe, Mr. Zimmermann."

Jack laughs and flops back onto his pillow, lifting his foot up so he can pull the shoe off. After he tosses the shoe aside, though, he sits back up. Bitty pauses where he'd been scooting up the bed to be next to Jack, giving him a confused look.

Jack gets up and turns on his desk lamp, then crosses the room to turn off the overhead light.

"Mood lighting," Bitty says behind him, amused. "How romantic, now that we've got our beer-stained shoes off. You really know how to sweep a boy off his feet."

Jack turns around to find Bitty lying back on his pillows, sans hoodie, smirking at him.

"This isn't romantic," Jack says. "This is just practical. Once we're lying down the overhead light would be in our eyes." He crawls onto the bed and over Bitty. "Trust me, you'll know when I'm being romantic."

"Oh, will I, now?" Bitty asks, almost a whisper as he pulls Jack in.

He has no idea.

Maybe they can't go on normal dates where they hold hands, and maybe Jack can't kiss him as they walk across the quad, but that just means that Jack is going to work extra hard to make up for it. To make sure this man never doubts his feelings for him, that Bitty knows exactly how incredible he is and how much Jack cherishes him.

But that will come later. For now, Jack hums into their kiss as he runs a hand under Bitty's t-shirt and up his side. "I like this. Less clothes, we're going in the right direction."

Bitty laughs, but it turns into a gasp as Jack works his way methodically down to the collarbone peeking out from the v-neck of his shirt.

They don't talk again for several minutes.

Their t-shirts come off.

Jack gets his hands on the ass he's been admiring out of the corner of his eye for months, even if it's through jeans (for now). It's everything he imagined.

Jack worships Bitty's abs, sucking marks there where he knows the boys won't see because they won't be in the locker room again until after break. Bitty's quiet moans persuade him to move lower, running his tongue through the sparse trail of blonde hair above the waistband of Bitty's jeans—

There's a knock at Jack's door. Bitty's hand freezes in his hair, and Jack growls.

"This isn't a bathroom, go away!" he shouts, not moving.

"Zimms, c'mon, it's me," a voice from the other side of the door shouts back. Now Jack freezes. "I know you're in there hiding from fun. Let me in, I need to talk."

The doorknob rattles. Jack sits up and squeezes his eyes shut. His heart hammers in his chest.

This can't—

He can't—

Kent—it can't—

He looks over his shoulder at the door.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Kenny?" he shouts, and his voice barely shakes at all.

"Why's your door locked?" Kent asks. "C'mon, seriously. I wanna talk to you."

Jack looks at Bitty, who just looks confused.

"Who is that?" Bitty whispers.

He doesn't know Kent's voice.

He doesn't know who "Kenny" is.

Jack is going to have to explain—

"C'mon, man, I got a fucking hat trick in Boston tonight, and I didn't even stay to celebrate. Just so I could see you, Zimms. I'm fucking exhausted, but I drove all the way out here for you, the least you can do is give me five minutes."

"I'll get rid of him," Jack promises quietly, and grabs his shirt as he heads for the door. "Don't move. _Please_."

He pulls the shirt over his head and glances back at Bitty. Bitty's brow is creased in worry, but he hasn't moved from where he's propped up on one elbow on Jack's bed. He's pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Jack takes a deep breath, and opens the door just enough to slip out into the hallway and close it behind him.

Kent doesn't step back when Jack comes out, so now he's standing _way_ too close. And looking at Jack like he's not at all upset about that fact.

Jack feels sick. The noise from the party downstairs, so loud out here in the hallway—it doesn't help.

"About time," Kent says, quietly now. His eyes travel down Jack's body. It feels so wrong. "Lookin' good, Zimms."

"Why are you here?" Jack asks.

"What, we can't talk in your room?" Kent asks, but then his eyes flick from the closed door to Jack's (undoubtedly messy) hair and back. He laughs. "Fuck, you were hooking up, weren't you? Your buddy down there, he was saying how surprised he was that you came downstairs at all. He thought you disappeared up here to read a book or some shit, but you brought a fuckin' girl up, didn't you?" Kent raises an eyebrow and lowers his voice. "I do wanna talk, but after that you think she'd be up for a little two-on-one action?"

Jack's skin crawls at the idea of Kent in bed with him and Bitty.

"Fuck off, Kent. Did you want to talk or should I go back in?"

The amused look drops off of Kent's face. "Okay, look, this is a little more important than getting your dick sucked by some drunk chick. Tell your puck bunny to take a hike so we can have an actual conversation. In _private_."

Jack's jaw clenches.

"This is what you get, take it or leave it."

Kent sighs and runs a hand over his face. He pulls his snapback off, runs a hand through his hair, puts it back on.

"Fine, whatever. Look, what are you thinking for next year?"

Jack frowns. "Next year? I don't know. I don't have to decide for months, how am I supposed to know?"

"Please, everyone knows how many teams have been sniffing around you. You must have some thoughts."

Jack shakes his head. "I don't know. You're right, I've got a lot of teams interested. It could be anywhere."

The truth is, he's narrowed the list down quite a bit in the past hour, but Kent has no right to that information.

"So… how 'bout Vegas?" Kent asks, raising an eyebrow. He gives Jack a smile that Jack knows is supposed to be charming, seductive. Jack would have fallen for it, once.

Now, he sighs. "I—I said I don't know. Are we done?"

"I hope not." Kent steps even closer, runs a finger down Jack's chest. Jack smacks it away. "Oh come on, don't be like that. Stop thinking for once."

"I'm not—"

"I'll tell the GMs you're on board, they can free up some cap space—"

"Kent, _stop—"_ Kent steps even closer, and Jack steps to one side to get away from him.

He doesn't realize his mistake until it's too late.

Before he can stop it, Kent's opening his door.

"Okay, look, doll," he's saying before the door's even all the way open, ignoring Jack's shout of protest. "I'm sure you two were having fun, but—"

Jack shoves Kent away from the door, but at this point that just means shoving him farther into the room. It's too late to stop this train wreck, so he makes sure to lock the door behind them while Kent gapes at Bitty.

Bitty, who is still shirtless in Jack's bed, looking at his phone, with a couple of very clear hickeys on his torso and rumpled sex hair.

Who is frozen in terror, wide eyes flicking between Jack and Kent.

Kent rounds on Jack.

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me?"

Jack is frozen too, taken aback at the rage on Kent's face.

"You're so fucking close, Jack, you're finally _this close_ to the fucking show. You could be rid of this shitty school by next week if you wanted to, and you're putting all that at risk so you can fuck some _fucking twink?_ "

That snaps Jack out of it.

" _Get out_ ," he growls. "This is none of your fucking business, Kent. Who is in my bed and what I do with them hasn't been your business in a long time."

"None of _my_ business," Kent says with an incredulous laugh. "You know whose business it's gonna be? Your fucking teammates, remember them? The ones you live with? What are they gonna say when they see this kid doing a walk of shame? Or when he brags to his buddies about getting his dick sucked by the captain of the hockey team? You think your team's just gonna say oh, hey, nice, our captain takes it up the ass? You think your coaches'll keep you on the first line when they find out their star player's a queer? We both know how that goes, Jack. How many times have we had this fucking conversation?"

" _Excuse me_." Bitty's been trying to break into Kent's monologue for a while now, but Kent only just notices and whips his head around. Bitty is fully sitting up now, arms crossed, his face as stormy as Jack's ever seen. His shirt is still off. Jack's not sure why that makes affection surge inside him.

"For your information, our coaches didn't even put me on Jack's line until _after_ they found out I'm gay," Bitty says, unimpressed. Jack's love for him is almost overwhelming. "So I seriously doubt Jack has anything to worry about. And my walk of shame is only gonna be about three feet, so don't you worry your pretty little head over his 'fucking teammates that he lives with.' I can assure you that at least one of those teammates is actually pretty damn pleased with this situation. Or was, until you walked in."

It takes a second, but understanding finally dawns in Kent's eyes.

"You don't know anything about me, or my team," Jack says, his voice low and dangerous. "So just go, Kent."

But Kent just grins. It's like earlier, charming and seductive, but now there's a dangerous edge to it. It's all Jack can do to stand his ground, knowing from experience how deep that edge might cut him. He needs to get Kent _out_ , but he can't move.

"Jesus, Jack," Kent says, smooth as a cobra's venom. "Trying to relive your glory days with some cheap imitation? You know if you come to Vegas, you can have the real thing every night."

He tries to slide a hand around Jack's waist. Jack shoves it away and circles Kent, putting himself between Kent and Bitty.

"He's nothing like you," Jack says through clenched teeth. "And this is nothing like what we had."

Kent laughs. "Right. You keep telling yourself that, Jack. I know how you work. You're fucking a teammate because it's the only way you can convince yourself there's someone out there who doesn't think you're worthless."

"You're wrong," Jack breaks in. His hands are shaking now. Kent ignores him.

"But you don't have to do that, Jack, definitely not with this kid. There's a spot for you on the Aces, and I can give you everything you need—"

" _Stop pretending you know anything about my life._ " Jack finally shoves at Kent. "You have no idea what this is—"

"Oh yeah?" Kent's charming mask is slipping. "What the fuck is it, then, why don't you tell me? How is this anything other than a sad rehash of a life you need to move past if you don't want to prove everyone right?"

"You want to know how this is different?" Jack stalks forward, using every bit of his height to his advantage. Kent doesn't back down, but he does squirm. Jack is trembling, as much from rage as from panic. "I'm in love with him, for one. I'm not the one living in the past, Parse—I'm finally building a future that might actually make me happy."

It's amazing how quickly Kent's expression goes blank. Hiding his pain so obviously only draws Jack's attention to it.

"So that's how it is," Kent says, quiet and deadly. "That's fine, Jack. That's great." He's backing toward the door. He compulsively takes his hat off to rake a hand through his hair again before shoving it back down. "I guess you can call me if you reconsider or whatever."

"Stay away from me, and stay away from my team," Jack says, his voice only just barely steady.

Kent opens the door, then pauses. His eyes flick up and down Jack, over to Bitty and back again.

"Good luck with the Falconers," he spits. "I'm sure that'll make your dad proud."

The door shuts behind him, and Jack immediately locks it again.

Kent gone, the adrenaline that's been keeping Jack going drains. His whole body is shaking. He leans his head on the door, eyes closed.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. He can't look at Bitty. He doesn't want to know how much Bitty hates him for letting that asshole in.

He turns to the side so he can put his face in his hands. He's still leaning heavily against the door as he slides down it until he's sitting, knees tucked up to his chest, face covered, trembling. The door at his side is the only thing holding him up.

"I'm sorry," he says, louder. Grabs at his hair. "God, I'm so sorry."

The only thing he can hear is his own ragged breathing. Suddenly, there's a light thud next to him, and he can feel the heat of a body just inches away. He cringes away from it.

"Sweetheart, don't you _dare_ apologize for anything that piece of shit just said. You have done nothing wrong."

Jack tries to believe it. Pulls his hair a little harder.

"Would it be okay if I touched you?" Bitty asks quietly. "I won't be upset if you say no. I only want to if it'll help you."

Jack pushes down the voices telling him he doesn't deserve the comfort. _I said I want a real relationship_ , he argues. _Let him be my boyfriend. Let him._

"Please," he whispers.

Bitty's arms wrap around him, gently urging him away from the door. He lets himself be pulled in, lets his head be cradled against Bitty's chest, lets his arms cling to Bitty's sides.

He shakes and shakes as careful fingers card through his hair.

It's been so long since he's felt safe in someone's arms.

He never felt safe in Kent's. Nothing about Kent has ever been safe.

He's not sure how long it is before the shaking subsides. He's drifting, not half-asleep but in a daze nonetheless, only tethered by the arms around him and the shirt under his face that's now soaked with his tears.

"You put your shirt back on." His voice is barely there.

Bitty chuckles. "I did. Think you're feeling okay enough to move to the bed? This floor's pretty hard."

Jack blinks, looks down. Realizes that Bitty's been kneeling next to him this whole time. However long that's been.

"Shit, sorry—"

"Sshhh." Bitty puts a finger over his mouth. "I'm serious, Jack, no apologies. It wasn't a complaint. I can stay right here as long as you need me to."

Jack shakes his head. "Let's move."

Standing up clears his head a little, enough to think of actual things to say.

"I… guess I better explain," he says to the floor as Bitty leads him to the bed.

Bitty stops. He reaches up, touches Jack's face and gently turns it so Jack is looking in his eyes. His face is serious but kind. Jack is a little in awe of him.

"You don't have to," he says. "It's okay if you can't talk about it right now, or even if you never want to talk about it."

"No." Jack reaches up and puts his hand over Bitty's on his face. "If we're going to be together, you deserve to know my history, especially if it's going to come in here and throw itself in your face. I was going to tell you eventually—just, not tonight, but here we are."

Bitty nods, and pulls Jack down into the bed. Jack winds up with his head on Bitty's chest again. He likes it there. He likes having Bitty's hand in his hair, likes feeling the rise and fall of his breath. For a moment, a swelling of joy deep inside him manages to break through the exhaustion and numbness. He chose this. It was a good decision.

"I suppose you did say 'again'," Bitty says.

"What?" Jack loves the feel of Bitty's voice vibrating beneath him.

"You said you didn't think you'd ever act on your attraction to men _again_. I did notice that. Obviously you had some history with at least one guy before Samwell. And I knew there were rumors, but I wasn't gonna assume." He huffs out a small laugh. "Lord, even after I looked it up and saw that the Aces played Boston tonight, I was still not quite prepared for Kent Parson to come strolling through that door."

Jack growls a little. "He had no right to do that."

Bitty's hand runs down his back, and a bit of the tension leaves his body.

"No, he didn't. He had no right to anything at all, as far as I could tell."

"Kent and I… we owe each other a lot of apologies." Bitty hmphs beneath him. "Okay, maybe him more than me, but… I wasn't great, either." Jack pauses. Words are coming more easily now, but it takes him a moment to find them. "We were kids. We hooked up a few times. Just… physical. Our friendship was complicated to start with, I doubt that helped. Then he got drafted and I… didn't. Everything happened so quickly, and whatever we were doing, it was over. It took me a while to figure out that we were never good for each other. But I'm not sure he ever got over it."

It's not the whole story, but he doesn't think either of them needs or wants that tonight.

He can feel Bitty nod. They lie there for a few moments, holding each other.

"He was right about one thing, actually," Jack eventually says.

Bitty's quiet for a moment.

"Okay, no, I give up. Where did that boy manage to string together three true words? Because I missed it."

Jack snorts, snuggles closer.

He's smiling into Bitty's shirt when he says, "I think I might end up with the Falconers. In the end."

The hand that had been twirling bits of his hair around its fingers stills. "Like you said, you have months to decide, Jack. And you've certainly got more established teams after you."

Jack finally looks up at Bitty. "I think if there's one thing I've learned here, it's that finding a team where I fit in, where my teammates accept me as-is, where I can make real friends—that's at _least_ as important as how much money they offer me or how many Cups they've won. And I really like everyone I've met with the Falconers. You remember meeting Georgia Martin?" Bitty nods. "She's married to a man, but once when we were talking, pretty early on, she mentioned an ex-girlfriend. Just briefly, didn't make a big deal out of it, but I think she was watching for my reaction."

"Huh," is all Bitty says, but he looks impressed.

"Plus, of course…" Jack scoots up so they're eye-to-eye, runs his fingers down Bitty's face. "They're nearby. Which might be more of a bonus than I already thought it was."

Bitty smiles at that, blushing and looking away. Jack's starting to enjoy making him blush. When he looks back, he bites his lip.

"Can I stay here tonight?" he asks softly.

"I was planning on begging you to, but I wouldn't mind skipping that part," Jack says, and it's the honest truth even if it does make Bitty laugh.

"Okay, then, here's what's gonna happen." Jack feels relief wash over him—it's good, not having to make decisions right now. "I'm gonna go change and brush my teeth and all that, and I'll be back in five minutes, okay? And you should do the same. All right, sweetheart?"

Jack nods. Bitty sits up, then leans down to kiss him. They get a bit distracted, but eventually Bitty makes it off the bed. He grabs his hoodie and his shoes, and Jack finds himself wishing he'd leave them in there. Which is silly, because Bitty has his own room and he needs his shoes to be in his room. But. Jack can't help hoping that over the next few months, they'll both find themselves leaving bits of themselves in the other's room.

Bitty pauses at the door and looks back over his shoulder. "I'll be right back. Don't forget to change, Mr. Zimmermann."

"I'm on it," Jack says as he sits up. He doesn't want to miss out on one second of Bitty in his bed.

Jack changes, pees, brushes his teeth. He's just spitting out his mouthwash when his bedroom door opens and Bitty slips back in, barefoot, in a soft t-shirt and plaid cotton pants, clutching a small rabbit that Jack's seen peeking out of his bag on roadies.

Jack walks over to meet him. He kisses Bitty first, holding him by the hips and taking his time. When he pulls back, he taps the rabbit on the head.

"Who's this?"

"Um." Bitty blushes, darker than Jack's seen him all night. "Sorry, I just… obviously I wasn't _gonna_ bring him, but I was about to leave and I saw him sticking out from under my pillow, looking all forlorn, and I felt so bad, and I know that's ridiculous, it's not like he's alive, but apparently some part of my brain is convinced that he'd be so sad if I left him alone in there all night. And I told myself I was bein' ridiculous, but I made it out my door and then I just felt so guilty, and I know that's pretty dumb, but—"

"Hey." Jack kisses his forehead. "It's not dumb. It's sweet."

"Obviously I don't need to sleep with him, he can sit on your desk or windowsill or something, just…"

"Just so he's not alone?"

Bitty rolls his eyes at himself. "Basically."

Jack grins and plucks the rabbit out of Bitty's hands, running a finger over its floppy ears. "If you do want him in the bed I won't mind, y'know. He doesn't take up much space."

This time, Bitty rolls his eyes at Jack, smiling. He grabs the rabbit back. "I appreciate it, but I think I'll have plenty to cuddle tonight."

The rabbit winds up on a nearby shelf with a few of Jack's knick-knacks.

They wind up under the covers, Jack pressed against Bitty's back, holding him close. His shampoo is strawberry-scented.

"Um, Jack?" Bitty says hesitantly, not turning around. "Earlier, when you were telling Parson how this is different, you said something. About how you… feel about me."

Jack hides his face in the back of Bitty's neck.

"Yeah. You noticed that, eh?"

"I mean—" Bitty rushes to clarify. "—I just—I wanted you to know that if you were just sayin' that to get Parson off your back, I don't blame you at all. I'm not gonna be upset or anything if you don't… y'know… say that… again…"

Jack closes his eyes and holds Bitty tight.

"I meant it, Bits. I—I didn't mean to say it, I know it's crazy to say I'm in love with you our first night together, even after we've known each other this long. So I wasn't going to say it yet, but it's true. But I'm not—I don't want you to feel like you have to say that, or feel that way, so soon—"

Bitty finally turns around in his arms. Their noses are touching, and Bitty's hand is back in his hair. Jack thinks Bitty likes having it there as much as he does, which can only work out well.

"Of course I love you," Bitty whispers. His eyes are wet. "I realized weeks ago that I was in love with you, but… I thought I was alone in it."

"No," Jack replies, just as quiet. "I think I've been falling for you for a long time. I thought for a while it was just physical, so I was trying to ignore it, but there's so much more here than that."

Bitty snuggles into his chest. The comforter is nearly covering his head, and Jack's not sure how he can sleep like that but can't complain. Their legs are tangled and the scent of strawberries lingers in his nose.

He lets himself drift, imagining the future they could have together. A house somewhere—in Providence?—with a huge kitchen. The two of them, making dinner together. Bringing him home to Montreal, skating together in his father's ice rink. A dog in the house, maybe, a big fluffy one that Bitty has to banish from the kitchen when he's baking so that fur doesn't get in his pies. Rings.

He can't make that type of commitment, not out loud. Not yet. They're in love, but making things work takes more than love. He won't make promises he doesn't know if he can keep. But he thinks… it's possible. Someday. He thinks they've got as good a chance of making it as anyone does. And it's nice to imagine. The idea of a future together calms him, so he lets himself float in it for now, half-asleep.

He dreams of holidays spent together. Introducing Bitty to his team, eventually. Hiding less. Kissing him at center ice after lifting the Cup.

A little boy in that huge kitchen, blonde hair and big brown eyes, eating pie. Blueberries in his hair, god only knows how they got up there. Crying when the pie is gone, throwing a screaming tantrum when they won't let him have another slice. Jack chuckles to himself, even though he's sure in real life it wouldn't be so amusing.

"Wha's s'funny?" Bitty mumbles into Jack's pajama shirt.

"Nothing," Jack murmurs. "Just a really good dream."

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr.](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com) Thanks for reading!


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